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The Attack
On the 16th day of the Sextan Plague, in the 4th year of Winter, the forces of Th'n Bolak, led by Grand Duke Valkhad, waged an invasion on the Githyanki territory Burning Mountain. The Attack The attack came at dawn. The Githyanki High Command had ordered Thq'Jor first watch because of the dragon Ruin's remarkable sight. Ruin was Thq'Jor’s partner, his red scales marked him as one of the world’s most destructive forces. The two were soaring high above the Expeditionary Force’s forward line. Burning Mountain was the Githyanki foothold in the region of Th’n Bolak, from which the pure Residuum mined from the deep could be transported back to the Astral, and on to the Lich Queen's city, Tu'narathi. Tension had been growing with the nearby Goblin King. Backed by seemingly limitless resources King Drak was the sovereign with the most access to the vein, and was pushing for more. Reports from spies inside Drak's Vale warned of a renewed aggression by the Goblin King. Apparently he and his council laid claim to the entire region. So Thq'Jor had been assigned to the first watch. “Goblins along the ridge.” Ruin's voice was boulders becoming gravel. “At least two legions.” Anticipating Thq'Jor's shift of pressure in his knees to signal the dragon to belch forth two gouts of flame, the dragon unleashed his breath into the morning sky. This signaled the ground forces of the imminent attack. Suddenly the mountain came alive. Githyanki seemed to erupt from the mountain as their telekinesis propelled them toward defensive trenches dug the first day the Expeditionary Force had arrived. Then the lower slopes of the mountain turned black with goblins. Sorcerers in the rear of the attacking columns sent great gouts of fire to consume the lines. The Githyanki in their trenches were consumed in swaths of flame. In moments three thousand soldiers were burned to a crisp. Then it was Thq'Jor's turn. From atop the dragon, descending now toward the lines, the psionicist focused his will into a wave of cognitive discordance, just as the dragon swooped over the lines. This combined with the other psionicists' attacks, obliterated the goblin vanguard. Goblins fell to the ground clutching their skulls unable to survive the assault. That's when the worg riders broke through the Githyanki flank. The worgs bounded up the slopes of the mountain and through the Githyanki lines, their riders swinging down with wicked serrated cavalry sabres. Simultaneously two silver dragons soared into the eddying winds releasing huge burlap tarps filled with rocks, boulders, sharp scrap metal, and a thousand thousand killing things fell from the sky, then the silver dragons flew upwards toward Thq'Jor and Ruin. One of the Goblin's known as Dakar, was battering through the Githyanki lines with a massive morning star that must've weighed as much as Dakar himself. The besieging infantry crashed against the mountain's defenses like a great wave, screaming goblins stabbing-biting-beating-scratching-eating everything in their path. The Githyanki infantry was reduced to a single battallion in a matter of minutes. From ten thousand proud Githyanki warriors to less than five hundred. But the time bought with Githyanki lives was not waisted. The great catapults had been maneuvered into position and began to rain death upon the assault. Th'n Bolak would pay for betraying the alliance. Through the rain of fire and stone the Githyanki Sword Stalkers, usually reserved for the retrieval of the sacred Silver Swords, these knights clad in shimmering runed plate cut through the goblin lines, their blades emitting some kind of charged crackling energy that scattered goblins in every direction, their smouldering corpses tumbling back down the mountain. From overhead, the citadel, constructed for the Astral ships to dock, bombarded the besiegers with bright flashes of silver fire emitted from some mysterious eldritch device within. Suddenly there were lines of silvery flame consuming thousands of attackers, sending up the sickly sweet smoke of charred goblin flesh wafting into the air. Thq'Jor breathed deep, laughing aloud as he wheeled Ruin around to meet the charging silver dragons. Just as Ruin's wings caught the wind that would send them into the fray, two more red Dragon Riders burst forth from the mountain. Their fiery breath scorching the skies and rocky slopes. The mountain was awash in a hundred kinds fire. Thq'Jor smiled at the silver dragon before him, and laughing, bellowed in the draconic language, “Friends, I would like to introduce you to our humble hosts here at Burning Mountain.” Thq'Jor waved his hand to indicate the creatures rising from the flames. Everywhere the chanting of the Githyanki Blackweave warlocks resounded off the cliffs of Burning Mountain. And up from the flames, demons. Three Immoliths came screaming from the depths. Dark hands stretching from within fiery columns of malicious evil. Long tendrils of scorching pain reached out from the demons as they cooked and ate the enemy. Leering faces laughed from within the flames and the creatures burned down the mountain. Thq'Jor had known dragons his whole life. But in that moment, it was his glee to witness for the first time, fear in a silver dragon's eyes. Ruin laughed.